Flawed Perfection
by ChicagoRaven
Summary: The traitorous Starscream, suffering from a seeker's heat, returns to the 'Con base, only to be caught in the act with a less than sympathetic Megatron. Will contain mpreg, slash, sticky etc.
1. Chapter 1

O... Oh God ;~; Please no one hurt me. I've never done anything like this before... But, inspiration... It just kinda hit. I've never written anything -well, outside of roleplay and English assignments- much less slash. There is going to be quite a bit more to this story. I have the bare bones of a plot figured out and... Well, actually I was hoping if anyone liked it enough they sort of beta things for me - Lord knows I use commas far too liberally among other things.

This story will contain slash, mpreg (because Screamer looks oh so good with baby bumps), and dub-con. Among various other things. Ya'll've been warned. Also, reviews would be loved seeing as how this is my first time. Be gentle with me D:

Disclaimer - Unfortunately, I do not own Transformers and am not profiting from this in anyway.

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><p>The lithe Seeker writhed under the powerful, albeit slow, strokes of the 'Con between his legs. Clawed servos scrabbled mercilessly along the wings of the and back struts of his former teammate as needy pants were drawn from his pouting lips. "Hnnng-! Faster, Blitzwing!"<p>

Red optics shuttered back online, glancing down to peer at the slender flyer. Blue lips curled upwards in a leering grin –something rare for the coldest of the three Blitz brothers. "Vhy vould I do zat vhen it'z zo much more fun to watch vou squirm?"

"Sl-Slag, you bastard. I could just leave you ri-ah!-right now."

Blitzwing's jagged jack-o-lantern mouth –his faceplates had shifted sometime amidst Scream's husky insults- tugged upwards, a wicked laugh ripping from the mentally unstable jet. "Have fun wiz zat," he cackled, blunt fingers falling to grip the jet's purple-plated waist, his hold tight and strong, preventing the leaner of the two from meeting his thrusts.

Starscream did his best to glower –no easy task when soft quips and gasps were being torn from your throat with every little movement. While normally he would've thrown the ungrateful ache-in-the-processor off his unsatisfied form in an instant, this was no normal time as Blitzwing was well aware.

It happened once every five hundred vorns or so. An intense heat crept up between the seeker's legs, transfluid leaked at even the slightest touch. An intense throbbing, a need to be ravaged and filled, obscured the purple and gray mech's thoughts – primal instinct took control.

Before the Wars, Starscream could generally take care of things by himself. Disappear for a decacycle or two, trudge off to where no-one would find him if they tried. During the War, it got harder. As Second in Command, the sleek flyer couldn't exactly go wandering off whenever he'd felt like it. And neither could he control his basic coding. It'd come as sort of a blessing in disguise when he'd been forced to live with the idiots aboard _Nemesis._ Of course, it hadn't seemed like it at the time… But hindsight was had convinced him otherwise.

Of course, by the time Starscream's cycle had come about on the _Nemesis_, he had been keeping his liege satisfied in the berth for quite some time. However, the Seeker was smart –or perhaps foolish—enough to believe his dirty little secret was best kept from the cunning and cruel Con. As such, it'd begun an inspection of the assorted cons on the ship.

Blackarachnia? While under normal circumstances Screamer was perfectly accepting of fems into his berth, this glitch in his system left him unfulfilled when he was only giving instead of receiving. Besides, the seeker was far too vain to allow that…_ creature _to share his berth. Even if the former 'Bot was, admittedly, one of the more intelligent on the ship, no one that had been tainted by organic filth would ever have the _joys_ of Starscream at his most carnal.

Lugnut? Not a chance. The fragger, so sickeningly loyal to that fool (and decidedly hard to kill) Megatron. Besides, the seeker was seriously beginning to doubt if the gargantuan mech had anything more than a one-track processor. The simpleton would've accidently crushed Screamer just as soon as 'face him senseless. Besides, with that loyalty… Well, Starscream figured his secret would best be kept in other hands.

It'd left him with sad excuse for a bot, Blitzwing. Of course, as far as his teammates went, the triplechanger was by far the one he least wanted to slaughter in some brutal way. Cold and cunning while simultaneously a bold, quick-witted, and fierce fighter Blitzwing would make a fine berthfellow… If only those traits hadn't been stretched out over three personalities.

But beggars can't be choosers.

Of course, even when the seeker wasn't a beggar he couldn't help but return to his partner's bed. There was no love between them –except for, perhaps, a slightly stronger understanding between them than before the tryst had begun—only lust. And their lust was truly something to behold: brutal, vicious, and anything but slow and tender.

Except for apparently now. This was the reason he hated Blitzwing. Sadistic son of a glitch. Denying the lean traitor when he most needed to be fulfilled.

Starscream arched forwards, thrusting his chassis against the sturdier built mech. "I'm going to rip you apa—ahhh—art if you don't pick up the pace," hissed the former second in command, head tilting forward so his scathingly whispered threats were directed right into the German accented mech's audios. Even as he spoke, his nimble fingers dropped, falling instantly to one place that many vorns of practicing with the triplechanger had taught him to be very sensitive. The claws dipped between his partner's tan armor just below his helm, fingering the thick cable he found there. The caress was anything but tender, roughly scraping along the sensitive wiring.

However, it got the lithe seeker what he wanted – as he knew it would. With a guttural moan, the larger bot's servos tightened around Starscream's slender waist, his hips thrusting with a far rougher tempo. Whines and groans were ripped from the smaller 'Con's lips, high-pitched moans slipping in frequently to excite the larger even more.

It didn't take long. The overly sensitive nodes in Screamer's tight channel were assaulted by the continuous thrusts of the relentless Blitzwing. Panting heavily, the seeker arched upwards, claws scrabbling at the other mech's backstruts, peeling away thin layers of paint in his ecstasy. His lips parted, though the scream that bubbled from them was soon swallowed by a feverish kiss. The tightening of the jet's leaking valve quickly brought his berthmate to overload as well, filling the sleek jet with warm transfluid.

They stayed like that, chassis-to-chassis, heating fans struggling to cool their all-but-fried systems as they basked in their afterglow. It was Starscream who shifted first, deft fingers darting between their bodies to pluck Blitzwing's spike from his valve. Couldn't have the goods being damaged when he pounded the fool into a pile of scrapmetal for being such a slagging tease.

A low growl rumbled in the traitor's vocalizer, kicking out at Blitzwing, his heel aught the slagger right in the knee, sending him stumbling backwards. Famous temper curling over his systems, Screamer's optics narrowed into thick slits, barely even noting that his partner was currently in the leering Random persona of his instead of his red-faced mode that such a kick should've sent him hurtling into. "Fragger! You ought to be honored to have the mighty Starscream in your grasp! Perhaps I should visit Lugnut next time. That glitch ought to at least be grateful enough to fr—" The lithe seeker's harsh threats were cut off by a sharp squeal, oh so very uncharacteristic for the purple flight commander.

"Ven vill vou learn that silence suits vou best?" The dry words were drawled slowly in that disinterested voice that Starscream was slowly coming to hate. "No vone likes empty threats, Starscream. Keep vour mouth shut." The larger mech cycled air still a bit faster than normally after his overload, puffing against the smaller jet's valve. His blunt finger was slowly working itself in and out of the tightly clenched valve – the initial intrusion of said appendage had been what had cut off the rabid mech in the first place.

Starscream bit back a whimper. Blitzwing would not have the pleasure of making him whine after only one finger… No matter how much his overly sensitized nodes quivered under the 'Con's expert touch.

Though he would never admit to anyone –certainly not the slagbrain himself—Starscream had missed Blitzwing's touches and caresses. Things truly did get lonely quickly when one was so used to be surrounded at all times by others. And, even while not in heat, Starscream did have an insatiable libido… His own servo simply grew boring after a while.

Even without his heat cycle, chances were Starscream would've wound up in the cave being used a temporary base sooner or later for sweet session of interfacing. Of course, without the cycle, perhaps he might've been able to make it past communication center into Blitzwing's berth…

But, no matter now. Datapads had been roughly strewn aside, a large enough place for the lean mech made on the slab of rock before they were 'facing hard, Screamer leaving little other options for Blitzwing as he ground roughly against him. Of course, not that Blitzwing would want any other options… He, too, had been feeling rather unfilled in the past few decivorns… However, he hadn't been feeling nearly needy enough to not tease the slag out of the traitor first. It was, after all, his duty as a loyal Decepticon, to make sure the former SiC paid his dues.

In accordance with punishing his friend-made-foe, Blitzwing was once more going tortuously slow. Inch by wretched inch, his single purple digit was pushing further and further into the shivering moisture that was Starscream. Once fully sheathed in that tight warmth, the triplechanger cackled that insane hoot of his, twitching the finger just enough to scrape against a sensitive cluster of nodes before he withdrew. The still giggling mech slammed his digit back in roughly, managing to squeeze in another with barely any difficulty thanks to their previous session.

The sound that left the traitor's vocalizer was music to the glitched 'Con's audios. Perhaps another, one not so accustomed to the little cues of Starscream's strained voice would've mistaken the high-pitched yip as something born of only pain… But Blitzwing, accustomed to his berthmate's quirks and idiosyncrasies, simply knew better. Pain mingled with pleasure in that little gasp of his and, because of the pain, it simply multiplied into more pleasure. Starscream was many things and a masochist was certainly one of them.

The triplechanger's pace never decreased after that, slamming back into the mech's sensitive valve. And Starscream, despite himself, couldn't help but thrust his hips back on those deliciously eager fingers, moaning like a wanton whore. He writhed, unable to help himself as his systems revved up, heating fans whirring as they struggled to keep him from cooled. Later, Starscream would positively loathe Blitzwing for reducing him to a mewling mess with only two fingers –he himself could not be to blame, of course—but, at the moment, Screamer could only wordlessly beg for me, rolling his hips and arching his neck.

And more was what he got. Fingers rubbing and sliding against extremely intimate nodes, Blitzwing fingered the lithe seeker with undeniable skill, coaxing his purple lover closer and closer still to overload. Starscream teetered on the brink of euphoria, every touch sending electric sparks cascading through his circuitry.

However, it wasn't until after the tell-tale _whushkt _of Blitzwing's changing faceplactes, the tempo of the fingers somehow managing to become even more brutal, clearly signifying Hothead was now in control, that the flyer managed to stumble over the edge of bliss.

Starscream's hips thrust forward, lifting off the slab of rock as his spinal struts curved almost to the point of pain. His scarlet optics shuttered offline for a brief moment as his claws scrambled at the stone, metallic lips parted in a silent scream as his vocalizer somehow managed to mute itself before it damaged anyone's audios. Silvery transfluid shot in a perfect arch from the flyer's spike as his valve simultaneously clenched around Blitzwing's fingers, leaking a mixture of lubricant and transfluid from their earlier coupling.

It took a moment before Starscream managed to calm himself from the undeniably theatrical overload. His cooling fans whirled in an obnoxiously loud manner as he cycled air in an almost frantic fashion.

Blitzwing only watched on in a half-leering, half-contented silence. One servo was curled loosely around his neglected jack, pumping slowly. He'd give the mech a moment of rest before going back on the attack. Couldn't have the needy flyer offlining too soon…

However, it did not seem Primus was smiling on the two that day. With steady steps and a deep, rumbling growl, the shadows parted to reveal a brawny silver mech. Crimson optics narrowed to furious slits, the mighty Megatron's gaze flickered between the two. "Are we quite finished?"

Starscream stirred at the all too familiar voice, a strange cocktail of dread and ire mixing in his CPU. _Oh slag…_


	2. Chapter 2

Oh you guys :3 I love you all. Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, story alerts, etc.

Anyways, onto chapter two. I apologize in advance for the rather abrupt ending - this and chapter three were originally one big chapter but then I got terrified by the length and split it up. Speaking of chapter 3, since I've got a good portion of it already written it should be up slightly quicker than this one was c: Stay tuned.

Also, many thanks to my lovely gorgeous beta. You are a lifesaver.

Once again, I in no way own Transformers. It would not be g-rated for the whole family if I did.

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><p>Starscream's scarlet optics flickered to the imposing mech silhouetted in the entry frame. The sight only reassured what his audials had already confirmed – Megatron. Simply standing there. Watching his former second who was positively <em>dripping<em> with transfluid.

The jet's tanks churned, anger roiling from deep within. Stupid slagging mech ruining his stupid slagging 'facing time. While some sense of trepidation lurked in what could be considered the smarter half of his CPU, raw annoyance, mixed with quite the overdose of fury, won out – no doubt thanks to the heat cycle that misted his normally flawless mind.

"No, we're not done just yet actually," hissed the traitor with a barbed glossa, scrambling into a sitting position. His nimble claws weaved forward, pulling the triplechanger closer, almost dragging him onto the rock on which their juices mingled in more than one silvery puddle. The seeker curled his legs of metal sinew around the stockier jet, arms coiling around his midsection and faceplates nuzzling against Blitzwing's chassis.

_Wushkt. _

Starscream bit back a growl at the sound. This was about him and Megatron… Blitzwing just happened to be in the room at the moment. Too bad the idiot didn't seem to realize that. The jet could feel the slight shift as the accented bot prepared himself for speech.

He never got the opportunity. With a speed impressive even for Starscream, two thin fingers had pressed against his berthmate's mouthplating, swiping against his lips before pushing in. A shiver rolled down the jet's heated spine as his fingers were enveloped in that deliciously moist heat, glossa twirling over his curved tips before square dentals bit down viciously, leaving little guesswork as to who was currently commandeering the shared body.

"In fact, we'd greatly appreciate it if you could leave," simpered the jet, a delectable sneer curling over his angled features. "I don't know about Blitzwing here, but I certainly don't enjoy putting on a show for pathetic piles of scrap metal." Of course, if Blitzwing didn't stop twirling that skillful glossa of his over Screamer's fingers, the jet wasn't quite sure he'd be able to control himself long enough to even care if Megatron was watching.

Starscream, if the last few sentences were anything to go by, was certainly not in the right frame of mind. Even with his traitorous tendencies, the lithe jet had enough sense about him not to intentionally anger his former liege when his softer bits were within easy reach. Perhaps the heat could be blamed for it… Or perhaps the loss of his spark had finally just sent Starscream tumbling over the precipice into the dark abyss of insanity.

Either way, it had stalled Megatron for just a moment – not something easily accomplished even by the idiosyncratic former SiC. He'd paused, clearly not expecting such an answer from the seeker… Nor such an uncaring attitude from the triplechanger. Had Blitzwing even realized Megatron was looming over both of them? It would've been impossible to miss the imposing silver mech. It simply seemed the triplechanger didn't care. The red-faced mech's helm was currently tilted downwards, still lapping greedily at those nimble claws of Starscream's, both of their cooling fans positively assaulting Megatron's audios with their obnoxious volume.

Although…

The warlord's olfactory sensors kicked in, drawing in an undeniably luscious scent. The bridge directly above Megatron's optic skyrocketed, a snide sneer slipping across his gray facial plating. He recognized the scent –and its effects– and suddenly Blitzwing's careless behavior was beginning to make quite a bit more sense.

Starscream, while certainly older than that fool of an Autobot Optimus Prime, was still rather young by Cybertronian standards. A full grown adult, no doubt, but still unable to hold a candle to Megatron's vorns of experience. While he had certainly been the trickiest mech the silver matted warlord had ever dominated in berth, he was not the first seeker the gray 'Con had had the pleasure of knowing intimately. He was well aware of the cycles that had been programmed into their model's raw coding in order to allow for regular breedings. Despite what the former air commander thought, the warlord was no fool. He'd allowed the traitorous mech to slide off during his cycles for quite a few reasons, one of which being he couldn't have the admittedly skilled jet caring for a sparkling in the middle of war… No, Starscream's vicious abilities were far too valuable for that nonsense.

And neither could he be dealing with a case of forced interfacing. The scent they produced – the one currently making the 'Con rather heated beneath his armor—would've led to quite the nasty incident if Starscream were left around the utter fools that made up the majority of his army. It had simply been a tactful decision on his part to allow Starscream reprieve from his duties while the heat lasted, and not ask any questions as to where the flyer had been. The seeker's narcissistic nature had clouded Starscream's mind anyhow, convincing the seeker it was his undeniable genius that had allowed for him to be able to get away with it for so long. And, since Megatron had nothing to gain from popping that little bubble of joy, he'd never corrected his second… Even though Primus knew he'd come close a time or two during their endless cycles of wretched squabbling. Besides, with Starscream's unpredictable behavior, Megatron felt far more comfortable knowing that Starscream thought he didn't know. The last thing he needed was for the oily air commander to twist it into some half-aft plan. This way he had the upper hand.

Or, at least, he normally had the upper hand. But oh dear Primus that scent… It was making his head swim, processor fogging up with delightful little images of a certain seeker's pouting lips covering his aching jack, swallowing him in and using that sinful glossa to coax him into glorious overload. Whining and mewling and positively _writhing_ beneath him as Megatron's blunt fingers worked quickly in and out of that dripping valve, punishing his traitorous second with an onslaught of exquisite pleasure.

It was too much. Far, far too much.

Megatron gave a low growl, the sound resonating deep with his vocalizer. He couldn't help but revel in the slight widening of Starscream's optics, uncertainty flickering across his visage. Even Blitzwing stopped his ministrations on the jet's servo long enough to glance up, wary behind the haze of lust that obscured his icy blue features.

The triplechanger's eyes were cold, calculating. Even with his processor half-frazzled thanks to the overbearing scent of lubricants and heat, the smartest of the three Blitzed Brothers was certainly intelligent enough to notice the signs, audios just keen enough to notice the steady whir of Megatron's cooling fans and eyes just sharp enough to catch onto the rather lustful gleam in his lord's crimson optics.

"I'd highly suggest making yourself scarce, Blitzwing, unless you'd like to have a hole blasted into that glitched processor of yours," growled Megatron, voice quiet though undeniably rough. The soft volume somehow only managed to make the threat all the more intimidating however, sending a shiver rolling down Starscream's back struts.

Blitzwing, however, was having none of it. Or, rather, two thirds of him weren't. Icy had attempted to leave just as Megatron had begun speaking. As always, analytical logic simply won out over emotions…. And his processor was glitched enough without the wound, thank you very much. Not even the undeniable effects of Starscream's pheromones could convince the coldest of the three to stick around.

Starscream, however, had other plans. The jet's legs, still sensuously curled around his partner's waist tightened, not allowing for much movement. Likewise, the SiC's clawed servo latched onto the other mech's tan and purple armor, gripping the metal hard enough to leave dents. The purple plated flyer's eyes flickered up to Blitzwing's face, his whole expression twisted in a way that simply screamed _don't you dare leave me you ungrateful slagger. _

The slight stall gave Hothead just enough time to emerge, viciously ripping control of the shared body. The less-than-stable 'Con growled something low, blunt fingers dipping low to grasp at the seeker's wingflaps. The vizored face fixed Megatron with a steady glare that would've been almost menacing had Blitzwing ever learned to keep his mouth shut.

"Go find vourself somevone else –"

_Whuskt. _

"I hear zat Lugnut vould be more zan villing to help vou out!" Cue insane cackles.

Megatron nearly groaned in frustration. He didn't have time for this.

Only too aware the insistent throbbing of his spike pressed against the soundly far too small confines, Megatron moved with agility surprising for a mech of his stature, giving the entwined couple little chance to move. His thick fingers curled brutally around one of the seeker's wrists, tugging it backwards and away from Blitzwing's chassis. Likewise, his other servo snaked downwards, catching Starscream at the ankle joint and maneuvering the jet's leg so it didn't hold the triplechanger in a clutching deathgrip. "Go."

Blitzwing bristled at this, drawing himself up and dentas grinding together before his lips parted to bark out a scathing -"Ov course, my liege," murmured the mech, helm bent downwards to only further assist the humble, ever loyal façade he was putting on. Processor currently in overdrive –not only was Icy thanking Primus he'd managed to wrench over control just in time, but it was certainly not an easy feat to fend off his brothers for too long—the purple-matted mech swiftly untangled himself from the cursing seeker. As soon as he was outside of reaching distance, Blitzwing transformed, taking flight and disappearing down the tunnel that would open up into moonlight after just a few hundred meters.

Starscream hissed, shrieking curses after the triplechanger in a decidedly more shrill tone than originally intended. Slaggit, Starscream wasn't prepared for this. Of course, given any other circumstance, he would've been more than ready to finally destroy his former master in combat – he was the superior mech after all. The true leader of the Decepticons. But, not only were his higher functions highly _dys_functional at the moment (Starscream could barely even walk without trembling, much less fly. It'd been a miracle he'd even made it to Blitzwing in the first place.), his leg was currently hiked up, knee almost up to his audios, in Megatron's grasp, exposing his still leaking interfacing ware to the air. His second wrist having been snatched up in the servo that clutched at the first, he had but one free appendage with which to lash out and even it was made useless by the fact Megatron was behind him. And, even as flexible as he was, Starscream wouldn't be able to kick out at the silver warlord… Or at least not with enough power to make it count. And now even his interface panel wouldn't even close. He sent the commands charging threw his systems at the mere sight of Megatron approaching earlier. Needless to say, the panel hadn't responded.

He was slagged.

"M-my liege, couldn't we work out an agreement of some sort? You know I never really tried to offline you. I was simply… Oh, what's the word? It escapes me now, but I'm sure you're far superior processor can think of it. After all, I'm but your lowly second –or, eh, former second, but I'm sure that can be rearranged if only you'd allow me to once more humbly serve at your side. A great leader shows mercy to his followers and you are truly a great leader… The best! Your name will always be remembered, whispered with the highest awe vorns from now - Ah!" The high-pitched moan slid from Starscream's vocalizer, interrupting the endless stream of sycophantic prattle, as Megatron shifted his servo, shifting his captured prey's leg to be slung over the armor of his arm, allowing his fingers enough leeway to dance over the soaked valve.

Slagged? Now it was looking much more like fragged.

"Sire? I'm really not quite sure I—"

Megatron growled, the low sound rumbling deep within the chassis that the traitorous jetformer now forced to lean against, sending vibrations pulsating through both mechs. "If you don't quiet that disgusting mouth of yours Starscream, I'll do it for you."

The metallic ridge just above Starscream's scarlet optics skyrocketed. Oh Primus, he was serious about interfacing. A snide grin stole across the jet's mouthplate, curling the corners upwards in a devious smirk. Quite an odd expression given his currently compromised position. "What's the matter, Megatron? Are you really having to crawl back to the mech who nearly offlined you just for a quickie? That's pathetic even by your low standards you old fool."

Gone was the whimpering sycophant, the quaking, stammering fool. Instead, a rather cockier, snappier mech simpered up at him, a complete change of spark from the original. Even after their many vorns together, the it didn't cease to amaze the warlord just how quickly Starscream could go from cowering imbecile to the creature that simply existed to mock him.

But Megatron was not here for amazement. Oh no, his CPU, currently under the haze of the seeker's absolutely luscious musk, demanded much more carnal actions.

In the back of his processor, Megatron knew exactly what was going on. He was no stranger to seeker cycles. He knew the scent was designed specifically to make him go into a lustful craze – a craze specifically for bringing about the next generation of Decepticons. It'd been hell during the Great War when his small bands of seekers had gone into heat. Mechs and femmes alike had thrust themselves at the needy fliers who were all too willing at the time… Only to wake up once the cycle had passed and claim it had all been in foul play, demanding justice. Such a high maintenance group the lot of them.

Thankfully there were rarely sparklings created out of the trysts. There were protocols in the seeker's programming after all. Firewalls and such to make it so only pairs that would produce sufficient offspring would be able to create new lifeforms.

"…I mean, really… The cause has really taken a nosedive thanks to your imbecilic behavior… Could barely even get the triplechanger to behave… If _I_ were leader… Would actually beat that fool Magnus… "

Primus, didn't he have an off switch?


End file.
